To say that I love to travel is a gross understatement of
fact. Next to reading, travel is the
thing that makes my soul sing. I love
everything about it. The planning, the
logistics, the anticipation, the experiences, the memories – my bags are
packed, and I’m there for ALL of it.
During my treatments I was “temporarily grounded”, but that
did nothing to dampen the wanderlust. I
spent that time reading travel blogs, making lists, doing research, and itching
to GO. It was a perfect escape from
reality, those daydream trips I took.
And just as soon as I got the all clear. . .. oh, the places we will
go! We spent our anniversary tooling
around Anna Maria Island in the cutest pink Moke you ever did see – the water there
rivals the Caribbean, and the sunsets, well, they’ll take your breath
away. There were weekends in the
Loveliest Village on the Plains, Thanksgiving in Mexico, BBQ at Little Dooey’s
in Starkville as we explored Grace’s newest zip code, visits to the Wiregrass
to love on our people, beignets in New Orleans, and Michael’s AU vs Vandy Nashville
birthday. Every trip was the “best one”. Every memory made a treasure.
In recent years I’ve fallen in love with the state of Maine
in all its gorgeous, northeastern, coastal, mountainous, lobster infested, COOL,
low humidity splendor. It’s just my
favorite. We made it twice this summer -
it is a magical place, and I’ll never tire of visiting.
As I type this there are tabs open in the background ripe
with potential for fall trips in the making.
We are knee-deep in all things “back-to-college”, and I didn’t want time
to get away from us without something on the calendar. My head was full of plans and possibilities,
and then I was stopped dead in my tracks with the most beautiful reminder. The story nor the words were mine originally,
but I’m unashamedly stealing them. The
original author tells the story of their recent visit to Portofino where they
befriended a charter boat captain who took them on a tour of the area:
“. . . he told us of his travels and how he grew up and
still lives in Portofino. At one point
he pulled into a cove and played Andrea Bocelli’s “Love in Portofino”. After telling us that he grew up fishing in
that cove as a boy, he nonchalantly said under his breath, “the most beautiful
things are close”. I don’t know if he
even thought twice about what he had said, but I felt it to be such a tender
sentiment of home and family.”
And there it is, my new motto. It makes my heart smile. It is everything I have always known with absolute
certainty but never been able to put into words. It is my life’s work and my heart’s desire,
my every whispered prayer, and my greatest blessing. The most beautiful things are close.
They are the perfect shade of blue hydrangeas blooming in
the front bed. They are the doodle taking
his 5th nap of the day. They
are the dent in the garage door made by a stray basketball. They are the kitchen and dining room tables that
remind me of my grandparents. They are the
turn at Memphis that means I’m almost home.
They are the college sweetheart who proved that he meant it when he
promised “in sickness and in health”. They
are the little people who first made me a mama and then grew up and made me a
friend.
I will never, ever be the one to tell you not to go. Absolutely, 100%, without fail - Take. The.
Trip! But then, sweet friend, come home.
The most beautiful things are close.
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